


Into your arms, I escape

by Sickmuse23



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders - Freeform, Dragon Age II - Freeform, Dragon Age II Spoilers, Dragon Age II pre-Act 3, Dreams, Fluff, Hawke's Manor, Kirkwall, M!HawkexAnders, M/M, Mabari, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Mages, Male Slash, Smut, Templars, champion of kirkwall, justice anders - Freeform, late night conversation, male hawke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 10:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sickmuse23/pseuds/Sickmuse23
Summary: Commonplace or no, all of us need a realm of our own we can find some respite in the ongoing rush of the world. With the Champion of Kirkwall, it's not all that different. One night he retreats to the safety of his Manor to wind up in a both pleasant and unexpected situation...





	Into your arms, I escape

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: this story contains heavy spoilers from Act 1 and 2 of Dragon Age II. Additionally, it's my first upload to this site and one of my first DA fanficts I've ever written. Enjoy!

Soothing darkness welcomed him as Hawke entered his mansion. Feeling his eyelids drooping, he kicked down his boots and leaned his staff against the wall. He hadn’t actually planned to go home before midnight, but he’d already had his fill with rat droppings flavoured ale and tavern brawling. While his trusty dwarf, Varric had been mocking him for not taking the plunge to join him and friends another game of Wicked Grace, Isabela had remarked Hawke was on the right way to become a typical Hightowner: self-important, fat and the dullest folk all around Kirkwall.

“Never thought Kitten would have more balls than you do” she’d added. Yet all he cared for was his fluffy pillow and a jug of hot milk. Perhaps he was getting old indeed.

Among all residents of the mansion, only his mabari noticed his arrival. Nalthur barked alerting the household for the late-night visitor until he discovered his owner behind the hall’s opened door.

“Hush, big boy!” Hawke whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. “Just good ol’ daddy here.”

 

Wagging his tail, Nalthur jumped on the Champion and greeted him with affectionate licks. Hawke giggled and gently patted the dog’s great head. Then he motioned his dog to take his paws off him and headed straight up to his bedchambers to change into his sleeping robes. Finding his bed empty was a sore revelation, although Anders had told him he’d took a night shift at his clinic. Since he either made himself busy with the mage underground or accompanied Hawke on his adventures he couldn’t spare any time for his patients during the day. In spite of this, Hawke figured Anders just needed some peace and quiet to put things right in his head. Or he was just making excuses for not showing up in the Hanged Man. Anders was horrid at gambling and quick to get drunk. Not the brightest combination at places, frequented by templars.

Laying leisurely on his sumptuous king bed, Hawke decided to clear his throat with a few sips of delicious red to quell the taste of cheap beer. He reached for the end table, only to realise the bottle had been left in the study. Groaning irritably, Hawke jumped to his feet to stalk back to the lower level. He opened the door as quietly as possible and caught a glimpse of the hefty bottle at the end of the writing desk… and something else.

Hawke smiled fondly at the view. Anders was sleeping at the desk with his right cheek on the paper and a quill hanging loosely between his fingers. The leaflets stacking around him in profusion erected a majestic castle, guarding his dreams. Some of them toppled over the wooden hawk sculpture – an unexpected gift from Merrill – and laid scattered on the ground. Grinning, Hawke sneaked up to his partner. As the glittering moon served the sole source of light there, Hawke could only guess what Anders had been writing. The former recalled Anders had mentioned something about copying his manifesto onto leaflets to distribute them among the fugitives. And Andraste’s flaming tits, he was determined – if not mad!

 

There was a sort of sweet innocence about the peacefully snoring mage Hawke couldn’t help but adore. The feathers on Anders’ pauldrons covering his shoulders like a blanket and his blond locks falling into his face provided him a fuzzy look. His fingers twitched from time to time as if he was pursing through the pages of a book. Hawke couldn’t bare himself to wake Anders up, especially when he saw a mild smile hiding in the corner of his partner’s lips. After all those nightmares teeming with darkspawn, templars and other uncanny elements of his past, sweet dreams had found him at last.

However, sleeping by a desk might take its toll on the dreamer. Not to mention Hawke’s selfishness for wanting him in his bed. Tenderly, he placed his palm on Anders’ back and shook him a bit, in an attempt to stir him up. Yet the only result he received was having Anders’ head tilting from one side to the other and his tongue lolling out through his lips. Hawke snorted in good humour and shook his head.

“If the bed won’t come to Anders…” Hawke started, grasping the back of the other’s chair. “Anders must go to the bed.”

 

The other moaned in disagreement as Hawke pulled the chair away from the table. Removing the quill, he took Anders in his arms ever so gently. The healer frowned at that, drowsily extending a hand towards the desk.

“I’m… not done… yet” he mumbled.

“I think you’re quite done, sleepyhead” Hawke chuckled. “Time to go.”

 

Anders moaned reluctantly once again, knitting his eyebrows. Sometimes Hawke wasn’t sure whether he shared his bed with a persistent manchild or a grumpy cat. Eventually, Anders let his arm down and buried his face into Hawke’s chest. The latter could feel his partner’s breath coming in slow puffs against his chest. Warmth rose to Hawke’s cheeks as he departed the study with Anders in his arms.

After carrying him to the candle-lit chamber, Hawke dumped the mage down onto the king bed. Nalthur, who’d occupied the bed yet again against his owner’s direct orders, started wagging his tail happily and crawled closer to Anders. The mabari sniffed into his neck to greet him which the mage answered with sluggishly turning his back on Nalthur, murmuring something about dogs being stupid.

“Shoo” Hawke ordered his dog, failing to conceal the mirth in his voice. “I told you to stay off the bed.”

 

For this reason, Nalthur didn’t heed the command until Hawke pushed him to the other side of the bed. Only then did the mabari jump down and left the room. Meanwhile, Anders had risen to a sitting position and gazed hazily at his feet, yawning. As Hawke sat beside him, he discovered traces of dried ink on the other’s face. He wetted his thumb and started scrubbing the patches.

“You didn’t tell me your night shift would consist of slacking and paperwork” Hawke stated casually.

“I wasn’t _slacking_ ” Anders objected, not realizing his drawn face, bloodshot eyes and drowsy tone chipped away of his serious intention. “On the contrary, I’ve kept myself quite busy during the night. I just thought… it’d be nice to see you before you leave again.”

 

“Oh I know I’m more important than your patients, but thank you for making that clear!” Hawke laughed. “Just pulling a leg. Are you alright?”

“I’m– fine.”

“Tired, you mean.”

“Drained, actually. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Hawke folded his arms on his chest. “Anders…”

“What?”

“Just tell me how you feel. Honestly. If there’s anything you need…” Hawke held his partner’s hand tenderly. “I’m here for you.”

 

Anders’ lips curled up in a grateful smile. “I appreciate that, but we really shouldn’t be talking about my issues while we have so little time for privacy. I’ve done this to myself, I’m the one fixing it. The thought of belonging to someone like you…” he caressed Hawke’s hand with his thumb. “... Is enough remedy for me now.”

Hawke lifted an eyebrow. “You sure? You’re getting cheesy again.”

“And here I thought you liked to be flattered” Anders chuckled.  

“To be frank, I’d prefer to be kissed.”

 

Anders wrapped his arm around Hawke’s waist and pulled him closer. Their kiss was searing from desire unquenched. It was slow, passionate and most of all: caring. Then their lips parted and they folded each other in a warm embrace.

“I missed you, love” Anders whispered amorously.

“So did I” Hawke answered. “Let me help you change clothes, at least.”

 

He started with the coat, unfastening the braces and holding the sleeves so Anders could free his arms. Then Hawke lifted the coat from under and continued with getting rid of his boots and belt. Anders’ eyes savoured every glimpse he’d caught of Hawke’s naked chest, revealed by his robe. He shivered as Hawke’s fingers ventured into his trousers then changed direction towards his abdomen. With his undershirt down, Anders lifted his gaze upon Hawke, devouring the Champion.

“I’m still wondering how you manage to sleep with this in your neck” Hawke said, holding the amulet he’d gifted Anders not long ago.

“I hold myself to my promise. I always keep it close to my heart.”

“Until you choke on the chain.”

“The only chain that would kill me is of the templars.”

 

Hawke shook his head. “It would take them a thousand flaming pants and a mouth-watering ham to drag you out of here. Across my living body, of course.”

Anders’ face lightened up in approval. “Well, if you get used to sleeping with a tabby, nothing can spoil your dreams. Save for overwhelming guilt, templars with oversized blades, hopelessly tainted Warden stuff and one strapping mage. Have I mentioned templars?”

“A strapping mage, huh? So you dream about yourself, then?” Hawke smirked. “I knew that smile of yours was too smug, to say the least.”

 

Anders grabbed the Champion’s bottom with both hands. “Hawke, you are terrible.”

“Hey, I’m a blood mage. What else could I be?”

With a movement so quick Hawke didn’t expect, Anders unfastened the belt of his robe. All of the sudden, he wasn’t _that_ exhausted after all.

“A _naked_ blood mage.”

 

It didn’t take them long to strip each other of their remaining clothes. Standing in front of Anders, Hawke leaned in for a kiss only to be dragged down by the other. Anders made him lie down on the bed and embraced him passionately, placing hungry kisses on his body.

“My, my – who’s _terrible_ now?” Hawke teased. Anders answered with a playful bite under his ear to silence him. The bastard knew all too well how much he liked that. Hawke enjoyed the burning lips sucking his neck as Anders gently rocked his waist against his. He’d always amazed at how experienced his partner was. Anders wove the most alluring spells even if he didn’t draw on the Fade. And now was the time to return the magic.

 “Let me do it for you” Hawke whispered hoarsely, caressing his partner near the entrance. Staring at the other mage with gleaming eyes, Anders was pondering on the request for a while then he nodded without a word.  

 

They weren’t just having sex but making love. Despite the painful ache of desire, Hawke took his time and cherished every moment of their tryst. He wished to be locked up in this very moment with the man he’d never thought he’d love. Yes, he loved Anders. The annoying, preachy apostate who never shut up about being a mage. The one being both selfless and selfish at the time and playing the modest martyr even though it was his own voice he liked to hear the most. A major hypocrite, that is. A condescending prejudiced arse. A crazy cat man, a stubborn nuisance, a rebel. An overly jealous attention-whore. And also on the right way to become a true abomination. 

Surely, Anders wasn’t mean to be a role model, but Hawke didn’t like goody two-shoes anyway. Had he believed anything at all, it was the flawed beauty of mortality. He loved that Anders was an actual person: the furthest end of perfect yet capable of goodness. He admired his devotion to his cause, his tenacity, his courage, his prowess in healing. Although they didn’t necessarily agree on every matter, it didn’t stop them from understanding each other. And it hadn’t stopped Anders to stand by Hawke’s side at crucial moments of his life. Moments when he’d lost a piece of his world. Carver, Mother… well, Carver wasn’t actually dead, but after having spent their entire life together it felt like he was gone. If not for Anders, Hawke would feel terribly alone. Hawke couldn’t imagine his life without the former anymore. He just couldn’t afford to lose him too…

 

This might be a sign– a sign of madness. Kirkwall had done this to him. Not like he hadn’t been prone to crazy before, but good ol’ Hawke wouldn’t have risked his neck for that merry band of misfits. What’s more, he just wasn’t capable of tying himself to a single person. And now, he had friends and a faithful partner. A partner whom he’d developed a pathologic longing for. He adored Anders’ weird sense of humour, his sleazy pick-up lines, his stupid spelling mistakes in his manifesto and the terribly romantic coat of his with the fluffy feathers. He’d fallen love with the secret pervert inside the mage – not Justice, Maker forbid – and the fussy nursemaid Anders became every time Hawke was injured or simply ill. He was simply crazy about the danger of sharing his bed with a possessed mage. And yes, he was also entertained by Anders’ patronizing manner when it came to blood magic. He was so much like Malcolm then – his long-lost, beloved father. Damn, only if he knew what became of his son…

Now, the sweet hazel eyes gazed at him with a furrow. Was he lost in thought for that long? It mattered not. He leaned in and kissed Anders’ doubt away as he pushed himself deeper into his partner. Anders casted a moan of pleasure and pain. The warm embrace of his legs turned into a grip tightening around the Champion’s waist. Hawke moved carefully in him like a slow tide rocking a lone boat on a hazy Solace day. Waiting for Anders to adjust, he placed little teasing pecks on the other’s neck, his skin burning and wet against his lips. Hawke could feel the mage’s manhood growing harder against his abdomen so he reached down and jerked it to divert Anders’ attention from the pain tearing him apart. The loud panting of the latter became more rapid, his fingers tugging at the Champion’s hair. His whole body went into a quick spasm, challenging Hawke’s resistance to the call of desire. It was a storm now, tossing and turning the Champion on the open sea and there was nothing he could hold onto but Anders. Then the pressure driving him mad was suddenly gone. Exhaling sharply, Hawke rested his forehead on the mage’s broad shoulder. Soft lips caressed his ear and he turned his head to seek them out. Anders hissed into their heated kiss as Hawke gently began to slid out of him.

 

However, Anders’ hand stopped him at doing so.

“Stay…” he moaned passionately. “Stay for a little longer. Please.”

Hawke didn’t need more urging. His fingers ventured to the other’s phallus and grabbed it tight. He loved the way Anders groaned every time Hawke lifted his hand. Eventually, it didn’t take long for the rebel Warden to end up in the hot and shaking embrace of satisfaction.

 

After a few moments of respite, Hawke touched Anders on his thigh.

“So… How was it?” the former inquired.

“Much better, love” Anders sighed, his eyes gleaming.

“Told you I was a good student.”

 

When the last candle snuffed out in the room, they both cuddled under the warm fuzzy blanket weary and stark naked. They held each other’s gaze lovingly until their eyelids felt too heavy to keep them open. Then Anders drew Hawke on his chest, casting a delighted sigh. The other pinched into his ink-spotted cheek affectionately and went on playing with his blond locks. Smiling, Anders turned his head to press his lips against Hawke’s forehead and embraced him. Minutes passed by with no sound but Anders’ heart humming a sweet lullaby. Hawke listened to it and let its rhythm soothe his mind until every thought in his head was replaced by a darkness so calm.

“I can’t go on like this…” Anders started abruptly.

“Huh?”

 

“Not while you’re so good to me. Maker’s breath, I’m either the luckiest man alive or you’re the biggest fool around here.”

“I’d put my bet on the latter” Hawke smirked, tired.

“I’m trying so hard to stay in control, but it’s like a dark wave crashing over me. Nothing I do really matters. I’m losing and for the life of me can’t understand why. The voices in my head–I can no longer tell which is mine. Perhaps the Anders I used to be doesn’t exist anymore. My past seems like a fleeting memory, a hazy dream falling into oblivion. With this and everything else I’ve burdened myself with… I don’t know how much longer I can maintain my sanity.”

 

“Bullshit” Hawke shook his head dismissively. “You’ve been staying in control for more than two years since that incident. You’re strong, you just have to believe that.”

Anders sighed. “You have so much faith in me, but I wasn’t fully honest with you about my time at the clinic.” He paused for a long moment. “It’s true that I wanted to see you, but it wasn’t the reason for me to leave. I can’t keep thinking about what the Knight-Commander is capable of with the Viscount gone. Some even claims that Meredith is plotting to seize power, can you believe that? She’s already sent her templar dogs to clear out Darktown. There’s no telling what she would do if she discovered the secret passages, used by the mage underground. I feel like even a misplaced word is enough to make me burst up in flames. Maybe it’s better for me to stay away from people. At least, for a while.”

Out of the tail of his eye, Hawke noticed the pale blue shimmer of spirit energy coursing through his mage. He could feel Anders’ chest shaking beneath him so he rose to take the other’s face into his hands.

 

“Hey” he said, soothing. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Perhaps all you need is a bit of respite. You’ve earned it.” He was rubbing Anders’ temples with his fingers. The menacing glow began to fade. “Why don’t you tell me about your dream instead?”

Anders stopped pursing his lips, eyes widening in bafflement. “My… dream?”

“Yes, I still need an explanation for that cute smile of yours.”

 

“Well, if that’s what you really want. But I don’t remember much of it.” The mage fell silent for a moment. “I was in the great hall in Vigil’s Keep, the Warden fortress in Ferelden with Ser Pounce-a-lot rubbing against my leg. Voices filled the hall, but all I could see was pictures of blurred faces. Funny, most of them didn’t even belong to a Warden. And there was the Warden-Commander, a doe-eyed elven mage with the big voice. No wonder the templars passed her to the Greys. What we talked about I can’t recall, but she smiled at me and bade me farewell. I got Ser-Pounce-a-lot into my pack and left the chamber. And I saw you…”

Hawke continued listening without making a comment.

“You kissed me and started joking about whether I wanted to leave without you. ‘Never’, I said and held your hand tight, crossing my fingers with yours. I went on making fun of my fellow Wardens and the unbelievable adventures we had and you were laughing so hard we didn’t get anywhere. Nonetheless, we stumbled upon Lake Calenhad, but the Circle Tower wasn’t looming over the waters anymore. Then you suddenly dived into the lake with all of your clothes on and challenged me for a race.”

 

“And who won?”

“Me. I’ve swam it through once, you know. I was only a snotnosed apprentice back then, arms thinner than a stick. I’ll never forget the old bastard’s face when he got wind of my escape!”

“Uh-uun… I see. What’s next? Something dirty?”

“It could’ve been, provided you didn’t rouse me. Thanks.”

“Your welcome” Hawke shrugged. “I woke you up so we could do it awake.”

 

“True” Anders smiled, but sobered instantly. “But that’s not best of it. In my dream– we were safe. Free. There were no Circles, no Chantry, no blasted templars breathing down on our necks. Just… us. The people who we truly are, not the monsters they label us. This is the moment I’ve dreamt of since I grew fond of you. This is what I’m fighting for. And I won’t give up just like that. I swear it.”

Hawke closed his hand on Anders’ with a reassuring smile spreading across his face.

“And I’ll help you make your dream come true.”

 

Silence sealed his lips as Anders wrapped his arms around his lover once again. He held the Champion so tight as if he could cease to be in any moment to come. Drawing a deep breath, he buried his face into Hawke’s dark hair and frowned.

_One day, you’ll wish you never said that_ , Anders had thought before his weariness dragged him back into realm of dreamers.

 

 


End file.
